Greta stood and looked down; she saw the little lips move once more, but again she heard no sound. "He is calling his mama," repeated Mercy wistfully, "and oh, he seems such a long way off." Once again the little lips moved. "He is calling me," said Mercy, listening intently; and she grew restless and excited. "He is going away. I can hear him. He is far off. Ralphie, Ralphie!" She had lifted the child up to her face. "Ralphie, Ralphie!" she cried. "Give me the baby, Mercy," said Greta. But the mother clung to it with a convulsive grasp. "Ralphie, Ralphie, Ralphie...." There was a sudden flash of some white thing. In an instant the bandage had fallen from Mercy's head, and she was peering down into the child's face with wild eyes. "Ralphie, Ralphie!... _Hugh!_" she cried. The mother had seen her babe at last, and in that instant she had recognized the features of its father. At the next moment the angel of God passed through that troubled house, and the child lay dead at the mother's breast. Mercy saw it all, and her impassioned mood left her. She rose to her feet quietly, and laid the little one in the bed. There was never a sigh more, never a tear. Only her face was ashy pale, and her whitening lips quivered. "Greta," she said, very slowly, "good-by! All is over now." She spoke of herself as if her days were already ended and past; as if her own orb of life had been rounded by the brief span of the little existence that lay finished on the bed. "When they come in the morning early--very early--and find us here, my boy and me, don't let them take him away from me, Greta. We should go together--yes, both together; that's only right, with Ralphie at my bosom." The bandage lay at her feet. Her eyes were very red and heavy. Their dim light seemed to come from far away. "Only that," she said, and her voice softened, "My Ralphie is in heaven." Then she hid her face in her hands, and cried out loud, "But I prayed to God that I might see my child on earth. Oh, how I prayed! And God heard my prayer and answered it--but see! _I saw him die._" END OF "THE BLIND MOTHER" * * * * * THE LAST CONFESSION COPYRIGHT, 1892, UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY STREET & SMITH. [_All rights reserved._] I Father, do not leave me. Wait! only a little longer. You can not absolve me? I am not penitent? How _can_ I be penitent? I do not regret it? How _can_ I regret it? I would do it again? How could I help _but_ do it again?